Chapter 5 Aristocratic Reception
Aristocratic Reception
Lord Matlock agreed to meet with his nephew at noon. The earl’s response to Darcy’s request had given no hint as to his frame of mind. Despite the lack of positivity, Darcy wasn’t worried about the eventual outcome.
All that he and Colonel Fitzwilliam had discussed regarding Lord Matlock’s character—the fondness for his nephew, abiding affection for the late James Darcy, and keen awareness of Lady Catherine’s acerbity—was accurate.
Lord Matlock was quite formal and not overtly affectionate, as was Lady Matlock, so Darcy could not claim to possess a deeply personal relationship with his uncle.
Nevertheless, he trusted the older man’s wisdom and decency would overrule his adherence to social status and protocol.
More importantly, he believed in Elizabeth Bennet’s ability to charm and impress.
While sure of these facts and confident that they, as a family, would arrive at a place of accord, he was firm on other truths as well.
Darcy had asked for this audience with his uncle, yes, but not out of fear or weakness.
In reality, if not for the earl’s divisive sibling, Darcy would not have been having a discussion with his uncle about Elizabeth.
Lord Matlock was the one who somehow deemed it within his purview to evaluate Darcy’s choice of wife, pass judgment, and bestow his approval.
It was an authority Darcy unequivocally did not grant him.
Frankly, the presumption made his blood boil.
Lord Matlock’s invitation, or “subpoena” as Richard had half-jokingly called it, forced Darcy to enter a conversation he found abhorrent.
He will defend Elizabeth to the death if need be, of that there was no question.
The problem with this defensive situation was that the woman he loved—a virtuous, honorable woman of strength and intelligence—was under a vicious, unwarranted attack.
It was grossly unfair, yet rather than enjoy familial support, Darcy had to counter poisonous lies, explain his heart, reaffirm his mental acuity and independence, and who knew what else.
Being on the defense, as opposed to the offense, was not an acceptable position for Darcy of Pemberley. Not ever.
With all of this at the forefront of his mind, Darcy followed the butler into the library where Lord Matlock sat in a leather chair close to the fire.
A low table was already laden with a tray, upon which sat a glass decanter and one glass.
The other glass was in the earl’s hand, half-filled with liquor, and used to indicate the identical chair across from the table as he said by way of greeting, “Have a seat, William. Help yourself to the brandy, or, if you wish, Mr. Willis can fetch something else.”
“Brandy is fine, thank you, my lord.” He sat in the chair, pouring a glass and taking a sip before meeting his uncle’s unreadable eyes.
For a full minute neither spoke, assessing the other in silence instead.
Finally, Lord Matlock smiled, albeit somewhat grimly.
“I see how it is to be then. I expected as much. You may not realize how similar you are to your father. I rarely won an argument with James, especially if his dander was up.” He paused, but when Darcy merely took another sip, he continued, “Lower your guard and smooth the hackles, Nephew. I’ve known Lady Catherine far longer than you have.
Trust me when I tell you I could share stories that would curl even your hair. ”
“My father shared a few,” Darcy offered when his uncle once again paused. “Yet here I am, the one on trial, so it seems.”
“Dramatic like James too. Or worse, like your Uncle George.” Lord Matlock grunted. “You aren’t on trial, for heaven’s sake!”
“Is Miss Bennet?”
Lord Matlock returned Darcy’s harsh glare. “William, I cannot fault your loyalty to Miss Bennet. This is admirable and as it should be if you marry her.”
“If? There is no if about it, my lord.”
“I know you are a mature, capable man. Never have I doubted your sense or worried over your choices in life. These facts, along with Richard’s assurances, go far in easing my mind regarding Miss Bennet.”
“I suspect a caveat is coming,” Darcy interjected, aware of his rising irritation and gruff tone. “And I reiterate my objection, strenuously, over the use of a subjunctive word. Miss Bennet and I will marry within a month.”
Sighing, Lord Matlock relaxed his face and softened his tone.
“You are a man of honor, Darcy, and I applaud this. You are also a man of rational sense. Logically, you must know you would not be the first man to fall prey to a pretty face. Men, since the dawn of time, have lost their heads when love, or more typically lust, clouds their judgment. And I know you will fume to hear it, but women down through the ages have used their charms to manipulate rich men. Huff at me all you want. It’s still the truth. ”
To his surprise as much as Lord Matlock’s, Darcy began to chuckle. Ah, the ridiculousness of Elizabeth’s marrying him for his wealth!
“Allow me to set the record straight on any rumors or assumptions regarding both of those statements.” He leaned forward to emphasize the seriousness of what he was about to demand. “May I first have your promise, as a peer of the realm, that the words spoken today stay between us?”
As anticipated, the earl bristled at having his honor questioned, his face hardening and spine stiffening. Since Darcy’s honor being questioned was what led to this absurd circumstance and conversation, his stare was intense and unrelenting.
“You have my promise, of course,” Lord Matlock agreed tersely.
Darcy acknowledged this with a quick bob of his head and then sat back in his chair. “Miss Bennet and I met last fall, and to be blunt, she despised me. My first opinion of her physical appearance, as told to Mr. Bingley, was less than savory. I’d rather leave it at that.”
Revisiting his harsh, ungentlemanly words was painful, even in an obscure reference.
Swallowing a gulp of brandy, he went on, “My opinion changed over time, after my comprehension of Miss Bennet’s intelligence, personality, and character.
I fully understand now that I had fallen in love with her, but I denied the sentiments and left Hertfordshire.
Forward to this spring and unable to forget her, I traveled to Rosings for the express purpose of proposing marriage. ”
Lost to terrible memories, Darcy stared into the glass, absently swirling the rich caramel-colored liquid. Inhaling, he mentally shook off his preoccupation with the past.
“She refused me. Quite vehemently, I must add. I was, and I quote, the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. Hardly the actions of a female using charms to manipulate a rich man. To this day, and I mean that literally, Elizabeth refuses to accept a single pence from me. Not one present either, other than her engagement rings. Trust me, your worries over Miss Bennet’s motives, and my judgment, are unfounded. ”
Lord Matlock was gazing at him in wonder as if a light shone within his mind. “Is this why you were acting bizarre all summer?”
Wincing, Darcy nodded.
“Lady Matlock was deeply concerned. In fact, I now recall she speculated if a woman was involved. I disregarded the notion. It seemed incredible to me that any woman would refuse you, or that you had entertained a lady since we heard nothing of it. I see now how wrong I was. Frankly, knowing how James felt for my sister, I should have suspected it possible for you.”
Speculative silence fell for a time. Darcy waited, not sure what else to say.
If those were his uncle’s two main concerns, then he had clarified the issue, and they had nothing more to discuss.
It would suit Darcy just fine not to talk about Lady Catherine or the swirling rumors.
The private matters he had just divulged crossed a line he was already uncomfortable with.
The thought of delving further made his skin crawl.
Alas, dashed were his fervent hopes of a closed topic seconds later.
“While my curiosity remains as to how Miss Bennet went from hating you to accepting the second proposal, I know you well enough to conclude it shall stay a mystery.”
When Darcy ignored his uncle’s pleading expression, the earl laughed resignedly.
“As I thought. Very well then. I am appeased that your relationship with Miss Bennet is genuine. Perhaps this will surprise you, William, but this troubled me more than the rest. I want you to know”—the earl shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, eyes sliding away from Darcy’s face to focus on the fire—“that my affection for you is also genuine. In large part due to James, who was a brother to me, but equally because of who you are…as a person. When James…died, I keenly felt it was my duty to…I guess watch over you is the best way to put it. Be a mentor or guide or perhaps simply a respected friend—whatever else you needed from me. You see, your happiness and well-being, and Georgiana’s, are of paramount importance to me…
to us. Your aunt’s sentiments are as intense.
As she delights in pointing out to me, she is far better at expressing them. ”
Of that there can be no argument, Darcy thought as he felt his lips twitch in a fight not to smile or laugh. His uncle’s commentary, mumbled at points and laced with contemplative lulls, was as amusing as it was informative.
As a startling aside, amid this supremely bizarre and awkward discourse, was Darcy’s epiphany that he was like his uncle in many personality traits.
He always presumed his aloof, introverted attributes—alien to both his parents—were inherited from his grandfather.
Now he gleaned that the genesis likely filtered down from both sides of his family. A double punch!